


Sacred

by Doom_Cookie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Am I doing this right?, F/M, Magic, Magical Creatures, Older Man/Younger Woman, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prophecy, Rating May Change, Rhaeghar and Ned are friends, Rhaeghar doesn't kidnap Lyanna, Robb is uber protective, Sansa means sacred, Weirwoods, no roberts rebellion, no seriously it does
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 16:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4570656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doom_Cookie/pseuds/Doom_Cookie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the second child of Lord Eddard and Lady Catlyn Stark was born, the babe had the stark look. However, much to the despair of her parents, it was obvious she would not live long. She was silent, not a single cry emanating from her tiny mouth.  So determined was he not to lose his daughter, Lord Eddard Stark took the babe out to the godswood and held the child in the water of the hot springs before the great weirwood tree and prayed. And as the leaves of the great tree began to rustle in answer to his plea, the babe's dark hair turned red, as red as the leaves of the wierwood trees. Her skin, pink from the heat of the hot spring, grew as pale as the weirwood bark. And when the child opened her eyes and wailed, the once grey irises were as blue as winter roses.</p><p>{update coming soon, I am currently editing chapters! Edited: ch.1,2,3,4,5}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, the main idea for this fic began when I found out the meaning of Sansa's name, and it snowballed from there. I wrote this first chapter awhile ago and I was gonna just leave it, but I have written a little more, including an outline of the next couple chapters. So, I guess if anyone is interested then I'll right more on it. You can probably tell by the tags where I intend to take this. The pairing just popped in my head and refused to leave me alone. I thought if I'm going to use this ridiculous pairing, it should be in the ridiculous universe I created where Sansa is a, in a sense, a weirwood tree. This is my first fic, so if anyone has any tips for how I could improve or you catch any mistakes I may have missed, please let me know.

Chapter 1

Winterfell, 286 AC

There was so much pain. Why was there so much pain? It hadn't hurt this much with Robb, and Cat had been told child birthing became easier with each child one had. So why this pain? The only time child birthing should hurt this much was if - no. She would not think of that. That was surely not what was happening, the gods could not be so cruel, she thought. Oh, but it was what was happening, she knew. For when she finally pushed the child free with one last scream, the room went silent. 

"Go get Lord Stark," she hears Maester Luwin say as he dismisses a maid.

"What is it, what is wrong with my baby?" Catelyn cried, near hysterical.

"My Lady, the girl is not crying, is barely even breathing. She does not have long," The Maester solemnly informed her.

"No. Oh, gods no, please! There must be something that can be done! Anything!" Catelyn cried.

"I'm sorry, my Lady. But there is nothing to be done," The Maester replied. 

"Bring her to me, let me hold her," she whispered. 

The Maester brought the girl to Catelyn, and she took the babe in her arms, and looked down on the most beautiful baby girl she had ever seen. She had the Stark coloring, with soft grey eyes, and a tuft of dark hair atop her head, but the rest of her, her chin and nose and cheeks, those were all Tully. All Catelyn. And all Catelyn could think was that she would do anything, give anything, if only this precious little girl, her little girl, could live. And so, when Lord Stark came into the room, face pinched in worry, she told him. 

"Please Ned. I can't lose her, she's going to die and I can't!” She took a deep breath. “I can't lose her," she ended on a whisper. 

"Maester Luwin," Ned said.

"There is nothing I can do, my Lord," The Maester replied, despondently.

Ned looked at his wife, down at his daughter in her arms and knew what needed to be done to save her, no matter the price. For how could he let this innocent child die, this child that was the first of his to be born of love and not duty, his child? At the very least, he had to try. So, he took the babe in his arms and went to the godswood. There, before the great heart tree, he cut his palm on his knife and dripped the blood onto the roots of the tree. He unwrapped the thick blanket from around the babe, then climbed into the hot spring before the Weirwood, boots and all, and held her in the water. He could see she was barely clinging to life, silent as death, and as her grey eyes slipped close, he began to pray. And pray, and pray, for his child to live, his little girl to live, for what felt like an eternity, and then, as if in answer to his plea, the wind blew, and the leaves on the great tree rustled, and it began to snow.

Ned looked down at the child in the water, at his daughter, and knew she would live. The wind picked up, and the leaves rustled louder and he watched as the babe's dark hair began to turn red, as red as the leaves of the Weirwood tree. Her skin, pink from the heat of the hot spring, grew as pale as the Weirwood bark. And when the child opened her eyes and wailed, the once grey irises were as blue as winter roses.

The gods have marked her, Ned thought. Marked her as their own. 

The wind died down until it was a not but a soft caress. The snow continued to fall, melting long before it reached the ground. It was a peaceful scene. Ned sent a prayer of thanks up to the old gods, and climbed from the water. He wrapped the girl back up in the blanket and hurried back inside before he could freeze.

He went directly back to Catelyn's birthing bed as soon as he got inside, refusing to stop for even a moment. His wife and Maester Luwin both looked up when he burst in, a servent running in behind with a blanket to throw over him.

"You're dripping wet, my lord!" Maester Luwin exclaimed. 

"I was in the hot pools, praying," He replied. 

"And the babe?" Catelyn asked. 

Ned smiled at her and said, "She will live." As if agreeing with him, the little girl in his arms began to cry again. 

Catelyn gasped. "Bring her to me."

But when lady Catelyn looked down at the small child in her arms, she didn't see her little Stark pup. She saw a girl that could have been herself as a babe, but not quite. Something was. . .off about the girl. She was too pale, too red, too blue.

"What happened," she asked.

"The Old gods marked her, gave her their strength so she could live," Ned answered softly. 

"A small price to pay, for the girls life. But she'll be needing a name, my lord," Maester Luwin gently inserted as he too looked down at the babe.

"Sansa," He said. "Sansa Stark."

"A pretty name, for such a pretty little girl," Catelyn said quietly as she stared down at the babe, calming her with traces of her fingers over her small face.

"It means sacred, in the old tongue," he told her, also looking down at the tiny girl.

"Fitting too, then," Catelyn replied as she smiled. 

"Yes, it is."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is some more back story. Sansa is going to be a little different than in cannon, and this chapter will be explaining the reason's why. Don't worry, she still loves lemon cakes and songs and other girly things, she's just a bit more mature due to her experiences. The next chapter we will be getting into the actual plot of this fic. For now, enjoy baby!Stark kids.

290 AC

Little Sansa's hair was so red, her eyes were so blue, her skin so pale. It would have looked garish on any other little girl, but on Sansa it was. . .enchanting. Paired with the way she walked and talked so gracefully, she was ethereal. More than an any four-year-old had a right to be. And standing here, in the Godswood, before the Weirwood that had given her life, there was no denying that Sansa was different. 

Perhaps the rumors were true, and she really was a child of the forest. She certainly looked the part of a little Weirwood sapling come to life. If Ned himself had not told her of the transformation their daughter went through, Catelyn would think she might be a changling-child god as well. But he had seen, and for all her otherworldliness, Catelyn knew this little girl was hers, no matter how many rumors spread to the contrary. 

"Mother, Father," Sansa called out, her voice high and smooth, "why have you brought Arya to the Godswood?"

"So that we can show her to the Old gods," Ned gently explained to her. 

"And thank them for giving me an easy birth, and then we will go to the Sept and thank the Seven as well," Catelyn added, bouncing baby Arya in her arms.

"Can I see her again?" Sansa asked her excitedly. 

"Me, too!" Robb yelled. 

"Of course," she laughed, glad that Robb had such an interest in his little sisters. When he'd asked to see Sansa the morning after she was born, she'd been so worried that he would sense the something different about her and be distant. Instead he'd looked down at Sansa, and with all the seriousness a boy of six could muster, he looked up at her and Ned, tears in his eyes and said to them, "I will protect her always, because I love her." She and Ned had never been more proud of him than in that moment. He began his sword training that day. He'd later said the same for Arya.

Catelyn went and sat next to Ned on the large Weirwood root coming out of the ground. Robb and Sansa rushed over, Robb standing behind them to peek over their shoulders and Sansa crawled up into her father’s lap.

"She's so small," Sansa said wondrously, eyes wide and unblinking. 

"You know, you were that small once," Robb told her.

"No, I wasn't, I couldn't have been that small, I'm a lady and ladies are big girls. Tell him, Father," Sansa said indignantly. For all that they loved one another, they still argued like all siblings.

"I'm afraid Robb is right, little love. You were once that tiny," Ned told her.

Robb smiled triumphantly, "See, I was right."

Sansa pouted. "But, I'm a big girl now right, Father?"

"Oh, yes. You're a proper little lady, Sansa. But you're not yet too big for this!" Ned yelled. Then he picked her up, and spun her around, and threw her up in the air, Sansa laughing and giggling all the while. 

Catelyn could not be happier. Here, surrounded by her family, laughing and smiling, she was at peace, even if it was in the Godswood. The Weirwood trees had once unnerved her, but after they gave her daughter life she had a new respect for her husband's strange and powerful gods. She still believed in the Seven, and still prayed to them most days in the sept Ned had built for her, but there was no denying that the Old Gods had power the Seven did not, at least here in the North. 

So, Catelyn would accept that her children, especially Sansa, would always feel more comfortable before a heart tree than in a Sept. 

(Time skip)

299 AC

This was Sansa's favorite time, when she could come out to the Godswood at night and relax in the hotpools. Steam would rise off the water, and the wind would blow lightly, rustling the tree leaves, and she could look up at the clear night sky through the branches. She could float around, with nothing but an old night rail and a pair of small clothes on. 

She'd never told anyone that she sometimes came out here at night, not even Arya or Robb, or even Jeyne. She'd certainly not told her parents, but she always had a feeling that they knew anyway. Today she found out why they never said anything about it.

Of course, this placed called to her, it was a part of her, and she a part of it. She wasn't quite sure how to feel about that. On one hand, it was like a song, wasn't it? But, her parents had told her of the rumors and songs that had spread across the kingdom of her. She was a changeling, a nymph, a Child of the Forest, a white walker even. No wonder there were never any minstrels in Winterfell, they might try to sing one of those songs to her. She'd always assumed it was because Father didn't want to hear any songs about himself. During Rheagar’s Rebellion, Father had earned the trust, respect, and above all the friendship of the now king, and had been at his side when Rheagar over through his father. If the songs and stories about her were wrong, then the other songs could be wrong too. She did know how to feel about that. Disappointed. 

She'd sat calmly and quietly all the way through her parents telling her of the night she was born. She had been weak, she shouldn't have lasted the night, but Father had refused to let her go, and by the grace of the gods, she had lived. She hadn't wanted to believe it. She had wanted to yell, and cry, and scream until her voice grew hoarse. She didn't though, Sansa was nothing if not a lady and she would keep her decorum. And it all made a sort of sense, didn't it? She had always had a connection deeper than that of her siblings to the Godswood. Always more comfortable there than in the sept, more at ease kneeling on the cold ground than on a cushioned bench. She felt like the great Weirwood listened when she spoke, now she knew it did.

Sansa, for all her calm and manners, had demanded one thing, though. All her siblings were to know about her as well, there were to be no secrets between them. Her younger siblings had accepted it in turn, disbelieving at first, but after seeing the seriousness in their parent’s eyes, could not deny that they spoke true. Robb, it seemed, had already known. She knew how to feel about that, too. Betrayed. If there was anyone in this world she thought would not ever lie to her, it was Robb. They'd always been close. Her first word was his name, she took her first steps towards him, he had protected her from nightmares for years. Of all her siblings, her closest bond was with him, and his with her. 

It all made her wonder what else he hadn't told her. But, she supposed, she couldn't be too angry with him. She didn't tell him everything either, and wasn't his fault he knew, it's hard to keep an event secret from someone who was present at the time of its happening. Still, she was a bit angry at him, even if Mother and Father had ordered him not to tell her. She wouldn't speak to him, at least not for a few days. She would completely ignore him, that should be ample punishment. Besides, she needed time to think about everything and what it all meant for her. She wouldn't be doing much talking to anyone. 

Sansa heaved a great sigh, and with one last dunk under the water, climbed out of the hot pool. Her skin prickled in the cold air and her hair, heavy with water, clung to her. She changed into the other night rail she'd brought with her, slipped on her boots and cloak, and turned to head back to the keep when she heard a distressing noise.

It was the smallest whimper, and if the wind had been blowing she would not have heard it. A series of smaller, higher pinched whimpers following. She should ignore it, Sansa thought. She should go back to her room and go to bed, she was already breaking enough rules just being out here alone at night, she shouldn’t be going off investigating strange noises. But the whimpering seemed so sad, and Sansa could never abide the suffering of others, so she followed the noises deeper into the woods until she came upon a clearing. There, in the middle, lay a great large wolf, dying. And at her side, five little wolf pups, newly born, huddling for warmth. 

"Oh, you poor thing," Sansa said aloud, "you must be in so much pain." The she-wolf, though large in structure, was thin and haggard looking. It must have been through much to get all the way down here, Sansa thought. 

"Don't worry," Sansa said to her, "I'll stay with you." She kneeled by the wolf and put its head in her lap. She gently stroked its fur and hummed until the whimpering stopped, the creatures breathing came after, and Sansa knew she had passed. Sansa looked down at the wolf pups, her face set in an expression of contemplation. There's five of them, she thought, like my siblings and me.

Sansa made a decision. "You're all coming back to the keep with me. My siblings and I will take good care of you." She bundled them up in her cloak and began the walk home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is that a weird way to end it? I tried writing the next few scenes, but it wasn't flowing right. Therefore, I leave it up to you to imagine what went down, they definitely keep the wolves though. There's going to be another few years time skip into the next chapter and we will be getting into the real plot. Again, let me know what you think, any ways to improve, and notify me of any mistakes that impede your reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I want to say how sorry I am for taking so long to update. I started college and wow! It's a lot to take in! We're already coming up on midterms, and I should really be studying, but I'm doing fic instead. I don't know what it is, but there's something about having other pressing matters that really makes me inspired to write! Lol! 
> 
> Second I want to say thank you to every one who has commented with such amazing feedback, kudo'd, heck even just read this strange fic of mine! I am so grateful! It makes me so happy to know that people are actually interested in this! You guys are amazing! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter, it ended up being much longer than I thought it would be, not sure if all chapters are going to be this long.

302 AC  
Kings Landing  
Rheagar could not be happier to be going to Winterfell. He hadn't seen his good friend Ned in such a long time, though they had kept in touch. So, when he received word that his first daughter's six and tenth name day was approaching, he immediately sent word that he would be attending, along with his wife, Elia. It had taken a bit of convincing, but Aegon was more than capable of handling things while they were away, and with Rhaenys at his side he was sure they would be fine. He trusted his children, and things were finally peaceful, the last of Aerys' supporters having been dealt with a few moons past.

Eventually Elia came around, though she would much rather stay with her children. They were packing now, and she was putting up one last fight to get out of it.

"How are you supposed to find a second wife if I'm there with you?" She asked him.

"First, I am not going to find second wife, I am going to see my friend and celebrate his daughters coming of age. Second, why do you even want me to find a second wife? You know most women don't enjoy being put aside in favor of another, you know I would never ask that of you, so how could you ask me to do it? To bring that shame on you?"

Elia grew quiet, and for a moment Rheagar thought she would not respond.

"You know why," she said to him, looking into his eyes, her face set sternly. "We need a third head, and it must be a Targaryen, not a Blackfyre. We don't need anymore rebellions from the Second Sons. You must find a second wife, and every eligible maid is sure to be at this celebration now that the kingdom knows you are going."

Rheagar sighed. What she said was true, but how could he do it? He may not be in love with Elia, but he had always cared for her. How could he do what his father had done to his mother, to turn his attentions to another? And worse yet, marry her? He was about to speak when he was interrupted.

"She's right, you know. Will you at least consider looking for a second wife, father?" It was Rhaenys. "There is something terrible coming, I can feel it, Aegon too. Something evil is beginning to stir."

She looked so frightened, how could he say no to her? She was his precious girl, everything he could have asked for in a child. She was smart, and kind, and beautiful, and strong. All the best traits of Targaryen and Martell had manifested in her and his son. She knew the seriousness of the situation, and she would not ask this of him if she didn't believe it was the right thing.

"Yes, Rhaenys, I will consider it. But you," he said, now looking at Elia, "are still going. If I'm to take a second wife, it will at least be someone who you approve of as well. Agreed?"

"Agreed then, but you will put forth a serious effort to find someone." Elia got very quiet then. "Rheagar I know this is not easy for you, you're too honorable for your own good, but I know what the people will say about us, about me, when you take a second wife. This needs to be done, though." At his look of sadness, she continued, "I can bare unkind words, Rheagar. What I will not abide by is the destruction of this kingdom and its people. Not for my pride."

"Yes, alright," he sighed. "I shall search for a new bride."

"Good, and can you at least try to look a bit happier about it? Honestly, you may be the only man in all the seven kingdoms that grows despondent over the thought of another wife."

"Besides all of that though," Rhaenys interrupted, suddenly as giddy as a child half her age, "you must go, if only to bring me news of the eldest Stark girl. There are some that call her the Maiden reborn, and I must know the truth of things." And that was it, wasn't it? Rheagar had to admit, he was a bit curious about the girl as well. The matters surrounding her birth were the only things Ned had refused to tell him in their letters to each other, claiming it was something best told in person, and in private. It certainly made one wonder as to the truth of it all, especially with such outlandish rumors about the girl, a song or two as well.

Rheagar had heard that she looked a Weirwood given human form with pale skin and blood red hair, but he'd written it off as only a more intense version of her mother's Tully coloring that would tame with age. In any case, he would soon learn the truth of the matter, and his daughters’ curiosity, as well as his own, would be laid to rest.

"I will tell you and Aegon all about the trip upon my return," he assured her, a soft grin on his face at her childish excitement at the promise of another new tale of a cold land and strong people.

"Wonderful."

(Time skip)

23 days later

Winterfell

Sansa could not remember ever being more nervous. Father's dearest friend or not, the King was arriving today, for her nameday! She and her siblings had grown up on tales of him, of his honor, his goodness, his battle skill.

When grandfather had pledged his support to, then Prince, Rheagar at Harrenhall, all three of his sons had been there as well, and each had pledged their swords in turn. During the war, Father had played a key role in strategizing a plan that would result in the least amount of lives lost, was integral in leading the northern armies after his own father and elder brother fell, and had even saved the kings life on the Trident. At the end, King Rheagar had offered Father the place of Hand, but he had refused. 'There must always be a Stark in Winterfell,' he had said, and with his father and Brandon gone, Benjen set to join the Nightswatch, and even Lyanna having left after the war to travel the free cities, being unable to bare the memories of her family, Father had to return home.

However, he and the King had kept up correspondence throughout the years, the King even sending gifts for all the Stark children on namedays, and father sending gifts for the Prince and Princess. It was said that Father was an unofficial member of the Kings council, advising him through letters when the King sought the help of his friend. Despite the close bond between the two men though, Sansa and her siblings had never actually met the King.  
This would be the first time they'd ever seen him, and it was for Sansa’s nameday! She wanted to look her best, this was fathers closest friend after all, and the queen was said to be coming as well.

As Sansa was debating on which dress she should wear her mother walked in.

"Having a hard time deciding?" Catelyn asked her. Usually Sansa would already have a dress picked for the day, and would simply be waiting for her mother to arrive to help her dress. That was not to say that Sansa could not ready herself, she had done so at times when her mother was ill or otherwise occupied, but Catelyn had always taken it upon herself to ready her daughter for the day. No maid had ever helped Sansa do so since the day Arya was born and she'd been too young to ready herself properly.

"Yes, should I wear the blue one, or the grey one?" Sansa inquired, gesturing to the two dresses laid out on the bed. The blue one was one she'd had for years, and was the first she had made entirely by herself. The fabric was thick cotton and now that she was older it draped her form beautifully. Sansa took great pride in it, had even made little blue rosettes to line the scooped collar of it. However, though it was her favorite dress, Sansa had to admit that it was a bit plain to be greeting royalty in, especially when compared to the grey one.

The dress was one she had not worn before. It had arrived a few days ago, a gift from her aunt Lyanna across the Narrow Sea. It was the most beautiful dress Sansa had ever seen. It was made from a soft wool, thick enough that it could keep her warm, but thin enough to still be worn in the northern summer without being stifling. Its sleeves came all the way down the arms to lay over hands with little loops for her middle fingers. Then there was the embroidery. Leaves and vines made of silver thread that shined in the light, heavy around the bodice and sleeves, and then leaves scattered on the skirt of the dress, to make it look like the leaves were falling.

"The grey one, I think," her mother answered.

"Yes, the grey one," Sansa quietly agreed.

Her mother laced her into it then turned her to face the full-length mirror on the wall. As Sansa looked up her reflection she gasped.

"I look," Sansa began, but trailed off.

"Like a woman," her mother finished softly, tears in the corners of her eyes.

It was true, there was nothing even remotely childlike about Sansa in this dress. It hugged her figure until it flared out slightly at her hips. The silver embellishments caught the light so they shined and glittered with even the slightest movement. Her eyes and hair appeared even brighter, and her skin seemed to glow.  
Sansa immediately wanted to take it off, but it was too late for that. Even if it wasn't, there was no denying that image of herself, she was no more a child. Sansa couldn't help but feel a slight sense of unease at the thought.

Her mother cleared her throat then, breaking Sansa out of her thoughts. "Now then, let's do your hair."

They decided something simple would best. Her mother braided two pieces of Sansa's hair in the front on either side of her face, then brought them around to the back to be formed onto a single braid. The rest of her hair was left free and wavy down her back, reaching her hips.

When they were done, Sansa and Lady Catelyn went to Arya’s room to ready her for the king’s arrival. It was a decidedly less peaceful experience.

"But why do I have to get all pretty for the king! It's not like he's here to see me, besides I hate dresses!" Arya ranted.

"Arya Stark you will not wear trousers to greet the royal family, it's entirely improper," Catelyn told her sternly.

"Sansa," Arya cried, looking over at her elder sister brushing out Nymeria's coat, "help me!" It wasn't long ago that Arya would have never asked for Sansa's help, but ever since the night they all learned the truth and Sansa brought home the wolves, they had grown steadily closer.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mother, you must wear a dress to greet the King and Queen," Sansa told her softly. "But Mother, perhaps Arya could wear trousers under her dress, to make her feel more comfortable?" She suggested.

"I suppose that's alright," Catelyn agreed, "just make sure no one sees!"

"Yes Mother, thank you," Arya replied, a triumphant smile on her face. 

Sansa and Lady Catelyn helped Arya dress in a light grey cotton dress with white stitching and little direwolves chasing each other around the bottom hem, a pair of riding trousers hidden beneath. Lady Catelyn would have much preferred if her youngest daughter had worn something a bit more befitting of a young lady of Arya’s station and age, but she had long given up trying to make her wear anything other than the lightest stitching of wolves. Arya’s hair was then done into a simple braid to hang down her back, much like her lady mother. It was more for practical reasons than aesthetic, but Sansa admitted that with Mother also wearing grey, they Stark women made a pretty picture. Sansa smiled knowingly at her mother, and Lady Catelyn smiled back just the same. She had planned this, and no doubt Father and the boys were also wearing grey and white.

The three of them left the room together to head to the great hall, Lady and Nymeria trailing after them. The men were already waiting. Sansa had been right, they were all wearing grey. She smiled lightly at that.

"My Lady," Lord Eddard greeted them, "girls, don't you all look lovely." He told them softly while kissing his wife on the cheek.

"You boys all look quite handsome as well," Lady Catelyn told them, smiling.

"Thank you, Mother," The Stark boys replied, their voices overlapping.

Jory Cassel rushed into the room then. "My Lord, the King is almost upon the gate," He stated in his no nonsense tone, as always.

"Let us go greet him, then," Lord Stark replied. They all nodded their heads and began to step out, but before they could leave he stopped Rickon with a hand on the boys shoulder.

"Rickon," He said seriously, though not unkindly, "I want your word that you will be on your best behavior for the following days. That includes keeping control of Shaggydog."

"But he doesn't like how some of them smell!" Little Rickon replied a bit stubbornly.

"Rickon, you're not a baby anymore, you must be polite to all our guests, no matter how they smell," their Father replied sternly. Rickon pouted at that.

"Rickon, please?" Sansa asked sweetly to him. "For me? It is my name day, after all." He only hummed a noncommittal sound and continued to pout at the ground. "How about a deal then? If you are good all day until the festivities are over, I'll sing you to sleep every night," she told him.

"Every night?" He hedged.

"Every night, promise," She replied.

"Deal," Rickon agreed.

"Wonderful, can we go now? I want to see the knights!" Bran said impatiently.

"Yes, yes. We can go now," Lord Stark conceded.

As they all walked out into the light, a rueful smile came to Sansa's face. For surely with the picture they painted, all in Stark grey with big direwolves trailing after them, there would be another song written this day. A song of grey wolves greeting red dragons as summer snow fell all around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a filler, but I hope you liked it anyway! As always, if there are any mistakes that trip up your reading, please let me know. I proof read as I go but I don't always catch everything. 
> 
> Next chapter, they will finally meet. And things will get very weird. But not because of that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, rant time
> 
> I am new to writing, and as such I know that I'm not the best writer around, but I am far from the worst. However, new to writing fic though I am, I have been reading fan fiction for years. I cannot tell you how many times I have left a comment about how much I love a particular fic, and how excited I am for more. I cannot tell you how many fics I've come across that I didn't like at all. I can tell you how many times I've left a comment on those fics. The answer is 0, and the reason why is simple. Fic is, or at least should be, about love, fun, and community. And leaving a rude comment just for the sake of leaving a rude comment is just bad etiquette and is not what fic should be about. There is a difference between constructive criticism and just plain hating. So, that being said, if at any time you come to a point in my fic(s) or anyone else's where something happens that makes you want to stop reading completely, then simply stop reading. No one needs to come home after a long day to read malice filled comments on something that should bring nothing but joy. If you feel you need to comment, then please do so in a way that is kind and respectful. Using crude language in a review is not, nor will it ever be, respectful. 
> 
> A lot of new writers are young, they need encouragement. It's harder for them to shake off the hate then it is for adults. So please, remember to be courteous when leaving reviews.
> 
> tl; dr  
> If you don't like a fic, stop reading it. If you must comment on it, be respectful about it. Lets keep the comment sections clean.
> 
> End rant.
> 
> So, it's not going to get weird like I thought in this chapter. I ended it before it got to that part. I hope that you enjoy this chapter anyway, though!
> 
> Thank you again to everyone that has been so kind! I love everyone in this bar!

Winterfell

King Rhaegar Targaryen could not remember ever being so relieved to unhorse. They had been met at the gate by some of Ned’s men, to whom Rhaegar had insisted that he could stable his own horse, if only so he could have a moment to compose himself after such hard riding. It had taken just under a moons time to travel to Winterfell, and the closer they got the colder it became. He and his men were cold, sore, and hungry from the journey, and yet, Rhaegar could only feel joy. It had been much too long since he had seen Ned, and they had finally arrived. Rhaegar was interrupted from his musings then by a familiar voice.

"It's bloody freezing here! How do people live? It's snowing, for gods sake!" Ser Jaime complained.

Rhaegar smiled at the man's petulant scowl. "This Jaime? This is only a light summer snow," Rhaegar told him.

"Seven Hells, you mean it gets worse than this?" Jaime asked, incredulous.

"You'll get used to it," Rhaegar laughed.

"Not bloody likely," Jamie mumbled back.

Elia walked over then, Ser Barriston and at her side. "Just what is taking the two of you so long? The Starks are waiting," she reprimanded.

"Of course, my Queen. Shall we go?" Rhaegar asked, offering his arm to Elia who nodded in agreement.

They walked out of the stables and towards the open center, Ser Barriston and Ser Jaime flanking them on either side. As the Stark family came into view, Rhaegar could feel a grin form on his face. There stood Ned Stark, his best friend and brother in all but blood. He and his family would have looked a formidable sight, all in Stark grey with large direwolves at their sides, their people and guests of many houses surrounding them, if not for the small smiles on their own faces.

Rhaegar looked down the line at Neds family. This was the first time he had ever seen Neds children. Robb, he knew was the oldest. He had Lady Stark's Tully colouring, but Neds serious face. He seemed a strong young man and from what Ned had told him he would make a fine Warden of the North one day. Perhaps he would ask Ned to send young Robb to court for a season to meet Aegon and the other future Lords.

Rhaegar's eyes moved down to the next child. As soon as he saw her, he knew exactly who it was. Sansa Stark. She was the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen. Her hair seemed to be made of fire, her eyes were a blue so crystalline as to rival the sapphire pools of Tarth, and with her skin so pale she should have looked cut from marble. But in the snow clouded sunlight she seemed to glow with warm vitality. He could not look away from her eyes, she was utterly enchanting, positively radiant. She blinked at him, a confused smile on her face and he suddenly realized he'd been staring at her. He quickly moved his eyes down the line.

Arya Stark was the very image of her aunt Lyanna, with the spirit to match, he was told. He wondered if she would follow in Lyannas footsteps, traveling and learning, never settling down. He thought she might like to hear the story of the Knight of the Laughing Tree.

Next was Bran, the boy that wanted to be a knight, and scholar, and Maester, all at once. Much like Rhaegar had when he had been young. He had the Tully look, but there was something of his Father in his eyes. He would have looked far too serious for a boy his age with those eyes, if not for the fact that he was staring at Ser Barriston and Ser Jamie with rapt attention.

Last was Rickon, the wild wolf cub. He looked like Robb with Tully color and Stark face. The small boy seemed to be trying his best not to fidget.  
Rheagar and Elia finally stood before them, and they all kneeled in unison.

"My King, my Queen." Ned greeted formally. "You honor us with your visit. I trust your journey here was well."

"Rise, my friend. The honor is mine, I have waited years to meet your family."

"It is good to see you, Rheagar," Ned told him after he and his family had risen.

They both smiled and went in for a back-slapping embrace. "As it is good to see you, Ned. Now," he said, pulling away, "introduce me to your family."

"Of course, Your Grace. My wife, Lady Catelyn, and my children Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon." Ned gestured to each in turn and they all took a small step forward and bowed when they were called.

"Lady Catelyn, you look as beautiful as the day you were wed," Rheagar told her.

"Your Grace is kind to say so," she smiled in reply.

"And all of you," he said to the Stark children, "I feel as if I know each of you already," he said earnestly.

"With as much as Father speaks of you, Your Grace, I'm sure we all feel as if we know you as well," Robb replied. His younger siblings nodded in agreement.

"Well, I look forward to truly getting to know you all during my stay here. Now, may I present my wife, Queen Elia Martell."

Rhaegar brought up her hand as she stepped forward and nodded her head once in greeting.

"I hope you will give me the chance to get to know you, as well. I've heard so much about all of you from Lord Starks letters."

"Of course, my Queen. We all look forward to the time we'll be spending together," Robb Stark spoke again. He seemed a very competent young boy, he'd make a great Lord of Winterfell one day, Rhaegar thought.

"Well, now that the formalities are out of the way, shall we show you to your rooms?" Ned asked them.

"That would be lovely, thank you Lord Stark," Elia answered.

"Later Ned, after we've settled in, I would pay my respects to the dead," Rhaegar murmured. 

"Of course, Your Grace,” Ned whispered back, then louder so all could hear, “If you will all follow me now."

XxXxXx

Sansa wasn't quite sure what to think of the King. He was certainly beautiful, there was no other word for it. His hair was so white and fine looking it seemed to be made of silk. His skin was as pale as a Northman's, despite being from the south. He was tall and strong looking, though not burly. With high cheekbones and soft mouth, his face was pretty in a way that should have been girlish, but somehow wasn't. It wasn't these things that caught her attention though. It was his eyes. They were a deep and piercing violet that looked to hold an inner fire that bespoke of all the secrets of life. He seemed otherworldly to her, and she wondered if this was how people felt when looking at her. Those eyes of his were absolutely enchanting, and when he had stared at her, she found she could not look away. When he had, she felt a bit. . . Disappointed.

Father and Mother were walking with the King and Queen at the head of the group, talking quietly. Sansa had fallen to the back. Robb fell into step with her and smirked down.

"What?" Sansa asked him.

"Nothing," he teased.

"Robb," she said, warningly.

He laughed a bit and smiled wider. "You and our King seemed to have a bit of a moment there, earlier," he said, nodding forward at the King.  
"He stared, they all do when they first meet me," Sansa sighed.

"Yes sister-mine, but you have never stared quite so intently back before," Robb cheekily stated.

Sansa felt her face get hot at that. "Yes, well, he is the King, not to mention Father's best friend. We grew up on bedtime stories about the man, of course I stared."

"Hmm, you know he doesn't know the truth about you, Father never told him in their letters to each other. Do you think he'll ask?" Robb wondered aloud.

"Perhaps," she replied mildly, "or perhaps we'll have to tell him on our own."

"It should prove interesting, either way," Robb smiled.

She knew he was joking to keep her mind calm. Sansa always got a little nervous when it came time to tell someone the truth about her. She never knew how they would react. Would they be awestruck, would they be angry, would they be frightened of her? All had happened, and each time Sansa wished that she could be normal. Everywhere she went people stared, and it wasn't the way people stared at Robb. They didn't stare at her because she was their Lords daughter, they stared as if they could tell she was. . . changed. It made her feel awkward, like she didn't belong.

Robb was nervous too, never knowing if he would need to defend her. He took the vow he made as a child very seriously. Father had Masters of all kinds come to teach Robb all manner of fighting when he had requested it. At the moment, he was learning water dancing, a fighting style from Braavos, and Arya was learning too.

Sansa smiled softly to herself. At least she knew that her family would always be there for her, no matter what anyone else thought.

"What are you smiling at?" Robb asked.

Sansa shook her head. "Nothing, come on we're falling behind."

XxXxXx

Queen Elia Martell had never been more exhausted in her life. They had been riding for almost a moon, and while she had started out riding on horseback, the closer they came to their destination, the more she had to ride in the caravan. It only served as a reminder of why she had come.

Her body was failing her, the same as her mother. When the Maester told her she could no longer have children she had never cursed the gods as she had that day. She may not love Rhaegar in the way a wife loves a husband, but she did love her children. She had wanted more, even before she had learned of the prophecy. When her children had found out about it and told her, well she had scoffed at first, then she had cursed some more.

The Prince that was promised would save the realm from darkness. They would be the blood of the dragon, born under a bleeding star, amidst salt and smoke. They would bring with them the return of the dragons, and the Dark Eye would fall upon them. They would complete the three heads of the Dragon, and theirs would be the song of ice and fire.  
She had thought it only an old tale at first. Then the visions had come. First to Rhaenys and Aegon, then to herself. Visions of a world coated in ice and snow, of cold blue eyes staring out of the darkness, of a figure in red armor fighting that darkness back with a sword that seemed to glow with power. Elia had taken to keeping the fire lit on nights when the visions came to her, despite the heat she could never get warm enough.

There was no denying the truth of the prophecy after that. So, being unable to bare a third child, Elia came up with a plan. The child couldn't be a Blackfyre, at the time they already had Aerys's supporters to contend with, the last thing they needed was a rebellion threat from across the narrow sea. Rhaegar would have to take another wife, and she would have to be Northern. The "ice" had to come from somewhere after all. Rhaegar hadn't liked the idea at first, still didn't, but he understood that it needed to be done. Without the three heads, the world would fall.

Now all Elia had to do was get Rhaegar to choose a woman and then help him convince her to marry a man that was already wed. It shouldn't be too hard to convince them though. Rhaegar was King, and it wasn't unusual for Targaryens to take two wives when their rule began. Or perhaps Rhaegar will need to do no convincing at all. For all that they were not in love, Rhaegar was a very romantic man, and they hadn't not fallen in love for lack of trying. Perhaps this time, he would fall in love, and the woman with him.

For now, Elia just wanted to rest. The cold was making her feel a bit better, but she still felt weak. As soon as Lord and Lady Stark had shown her and Rhaeger to their rooms in the Great Keep and left she had all but collapsed on the bed.

"Are you feeling alright, Elia?" Rhaegar asked her.

"Just tired from the journey. I think I'll take a nap before readying for the feast tonight," she replied.

"You're sure? You don't need me to call for a Maester? I assure you, Maester Luwin is more than capable of administering to your needs," Rhaegar fretted.

"I'm fine," Elia laughed. "Go, pay your respects, and don't worry about me. Truly, I'm fine, all I need is a bit of rest."

"If you're sure, then," he said as he leaned down to give a peck to her forehead.

"I am," she murmured tiredly. Elia was asleep before she heard the door shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? Let me know! 
> 
> Please notify me of any mistakes that stick out to you and I will try to fix them as soon as I can! 
> 
> I have more exams and then finals coming up, so it could be a bit until I update again.:,( on the bright side, I passed all my midterms! 
> 
> The next chapter, Rhaegar and Sansa will actually have a conversation!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so it's been like a month since I updated, and I am so sorry for that. On the bright side, this chapter is pretty long, for me anyway. I ended up cutting it off after it went over 14 pages in word. I am so happy with myself. I really like this chapter, and I hope you guys do too.

Crypts of Winterfell

Ned Stark stood silently before the stone statues of his father and elder brother. King Rhaegar stood beside him, the way he did the day Ned became Lord of Winterfell. ‘I’m so sorry, Ned,’ Rhaegar had said to him then. He said it again now.

“I’m so sorry. I can never repay the great debt I owe your family for their sacrifice,” Rhaegar said into the quiet of the crypts.

“Still blaming yourself, I see. Brandon and my Father were men grown, they made their own decisions. I forgave you for their deaths long ago, my friend,” Ned replied.

“I’ll never understand how you were able to do that. You lost so much because of me,” Rhaegar spoke with melancholy.

“Aye, but I gained much too, Rhaegar.”

“Your family.”

“I cannot fathom a life without them,” Ned said wistfully. “Punching you in the face helped a bit as well,” He added.

“Yes, I imagine it did,” Rhaegar chuckled.

Ned slapped a hand across Rhaegar’s shoulders. “Come,” he said, “let’s not dwell on the shadows of the past. You’re here for a joyous occasion. We will feast tonight in your honor, and send all the men off hunting.”

“Hunting?” Rhaegar asked.

“Aye, you saw the encampments outside the gate. Almost all the Northern Lords are in attendance, as well as quite a few Southern houses. We will have to feed them all, and the Wolfswood has been unusually heavy with game these past months. It was Robb's idea to make it part of the competition along with the tourney in a few days’ time,” Ned explained.

“Ah, yes. You mentioned a competition of sorts in your letter. What is the prize, if I may ask?” Rhaegar inquired.

"There will be sacks of gold, as with every competition, but the main prize will be Sansa’s hand in the first set of dancing on her name day,” Ned replied.

"Ah, no wonder there is such a large amount of people attending,” Rhaegar said. “The chance to dance with Eddard Starks beautiful and mysterious daughter is quite the draw. Perhaps I shall enter myself.”

“Better you than some upstart lord’s son,” Ned groused. “But you will have to defeat Robb for the honor.”

"Protective over his sister, then?” Rhaegar asked.

“All of his siblings, truly. Especially Sansa, though,” Ned told him. “Most people are just curious about her, but there have been a few that reacted in fear and anger. The first time it happened, I had to pull Robb off the poor boy that didn't have the sense to keep his mouth shut about it.”

"Ned, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were proud of young Robb's violence,” Rhaegar teased.

“Perhaps a bit,” Ned admitted as they finally exited the crypts. “It's almost time for midday meal. Let us go ready ourselves. I'll have Jory show you and the Queen to the dining room.”

“Thank you, Ned.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

XxXxXx

Sansa had just finished readying for midday meal with the King and Queen when Robb knocked at the door.

“Sansa, I'm here to escort you to luncheon, are you ready?” He asked through the door.

“Yes, come in,” she spoke loudly back.

“You look lovely, sister,” Robb complemented her. She was still wearing the dress from this morning, but she had taken out her braids to let her hair flow freely down around her to fall in loose waves and had brushed it until it shone. If there was one thing Sansa was a bit vain about, it was her hair. She had never let it be cut in all her life, and the only people she allowed to brush it were herself and her mother. She let her Lord Father brush it once when she was small and Mother was ill, but he was abysmal at it and she had to take the brush from him.

"Thank you, Robb,” she said. “You look quite handsome as well, I don't believe I told you this morning.” He was also still in the clothes from earlier. “Your hair is out of place, though, come here.”

“Sansa, just leave it,” he groaned.

“No, and don't complain,” she said as she pulled him forward and put his hair to rights. It wasn't hard, she was almost as tall as he was now.

Robb sighed in resignation. “So, are you alright?”

There it is, Sansa thought, the real reason he's here. She knows he means well, but really there was no reason to worry. Sansa knew there was nothing to fear from the King and Queen.

Robb grabbed her shoulders and looked in her eyes. “You don't have to tell them if you don't want to. You know Father won't make you, it's your decision,” he said.

“I know,” she said, “but I want to tell them. I have a good feeling, and this is Fathers best friend we're talking about. I'm sure he and Queen Elia will react just fine.”

"If you're sure,” he agreed. “But don't think that I won't punch him just because he's the King if he does end up reacting badly.”

“Robb Stark!” She yelled. “You will not harm the King, no matter how he reacts,” she admonished. “Thank you, though,” she said.

“Always,” he replied. “Shall we go, my lady?” He asked as he offered his arm to her. She nodded and wrapped her hand around it.

XxXxXx

Sansa and Robb had just arrived in the family dining hall when they heard their Lady Mother give out a shout.

“Arya Stark, you will not wear trousers to eat with the King and Queen!” She admonished.

The words brought smiles to the two siblings faces as they walked forward. Arya would try and wear trousers to luncheon, no matter who it was with.

"Why not?" Arya complained. "It's not like they're expecting me to be all dressed up, Father told them all about us. Right, Father?” She asked as she looked him at the head of the table.

“Don't bring me into this, this is between you and your mother,” he evaded.

Arya looked over to her older siblings entering. “Sansa!” She exclaimed. “Tell mother the King and Queen won't care if I wear trousers to eat with them.”

Sansa would have tried to do just that, but she was cut off by her Lady Mother.

“It is not about what they expect, it's about what is proper,” Lady Catelyn stated firmly. “It's too late for you to change, though, so keep your legs under the table cloth and try not to fidget.”

Arya smiled triumphantly. “Yes, Mother.”

“Honestly child, what am I going to do with you?” She asked exasperated, as Sansa and Robb sat down.

"Stop trying to turn me into a proper lady?” Arya hedged. She got looks from everyone in the room for that comment. “What? You've all got Sansa, what do I have to be a Lady for?”

“Quite the interesting question, young Arya,” an unfamiliar voice sounded. It was the Queen. “Tell me, child, what is so wrong with being a Lady?” She asked as they all stood at her and the Kings entrance. She waved them back down again and they all took their seats.

“Well?” The Queen prompted.

“Um, well, there's nothing wrong with it I suppose. I just think it's. . .” Arya trailed off, nervous.

“Yes, it's what?” The Queen asked expectantly.

“Well, being a Lady is sort of useless when compared to being a man,” Arya stated. “Men get to fight, and hunt, and say what they want. Ladies just sit, and sing, and sew.”

"Yes, ladies do, do these things. But, Lady Arya,” she emphasized, “if you truly think these things are useless, you are gravely mistaken.”

"How so, Your Grace?” Arya asked sheepishly.

“Well, first, let's take stock of the Ladies you know personally,” the Queen began. “There is your Lady Mother, your sister, your Aunt Lyanna, and now myself. Let's start with sewing, I assure you that it is far from a useless skill. Who do you think made the clothes you're wearing?” She asked.

“I, I don't know, Your Grace,” Arya said quietly.

“Well, I can tell you with utmost certainty that it was a Lady who made them, quite possibly your Mother or sister. Am I correct, Lady Catelyn?” She addressed their mother.

“Yes, My Queen, those particular ones I made for Robb when he was younger,” she replied.

"Thank you," the Queen said, "now, Arya, who mends your clothes when you rend them?”

“My sister and Lady Mother, Your Grace,” she replied.

The Queen turned her head to Sansa. “Lady Sansa, would I be correct in assuming that you and your Mother also mend your brother’s and Lord Father’s clothes?”

“Yes, Your Grace, as well as the other men that have no one to do it for them,” she answered. The Queen hummed in thanks.

“And Lord Stark, did your sister Lyanna not sew and mend most of her own clothes?” She asked him.

“Yes, Your Grace, as well as mine, and our brother’s, and Father’s after our Lady Mother passed.”

"Thank you, now,” the Queen said, “in the event that things were to fall apart, young Arya, your Mother and sister could very well support this family with their sewing skills, tell me, is that so useless?”

“No, Your Grace,” Arya murmured down into her lap.

“No, indeed,” The Queen agreed. “As for singing, when the war was going on, I often sat beside the beds of dying men and sang to them. It brought them comfort, it brought them peace at the time they most needed it, is that useless?”

“No, Your Grace,” Arya repeated.

“And when you and your siblings get scared at night, who do you call out for?” She asked her.

“Our Lady Mother, Your Grace,” Arya said, a bit confused.

“Not your Lord Father?”

“No, Your Grace.”

“And why is that, do you think?”

“I don't know, Your Grace.”

“I see, and how does your mother comfort you on those nights when you call for her?” The Queen asked.

"She, she sings to us, Your Grace,” Arya replied, embarrassed.

“She sings to you, yes I thought she might. Tell me Arya, do you look up to your Aunt Lyanna for being a strong woman?”

“Yes, of course.”

"I met her once you know, we spent much time together. Did you know that she loves songs and singing?” She asked.

“No, I did not,” Arya answered.

"And did you know before tonight that she was so adept at sewing?” The Queen questioned her.

“No, Your Grace,” she replied.

“Now that you know all that you do, what have you learned?” The Queen asked gently.

Arya was quiet for a few moments before she spoke. “You can be a Lady, and still be strong.”

"Close, being a Lady, Arya, is to be strong. For your husband, for your children, but most of all, for yourself.” She got up and began to walk around the table towards Arya. “Men see a beautiful woman in a pretty dress, and they call her “lady,” and they underestimate her. They hear her pretty voice and see her pretty stitching, and they underestimate her. They see her sit up straight, with ankles crossed and hands folded, staying silent while they speak, and they underestimate her. But all this time she has seen them, and she has heard them, and she can use their underestimating her to her advantage.” She sunk down in front of Arya then, to look her in the eye. “I am not cross with you, child, I once thought as you did. You are young, and as such you have seen the world as you would like it to be. Most people don't learn how the world truly works until they are older, and some never learn at all. Be grateful that you are learning now.”

"Yes, Your Grace,” Arya nodded.

The Queen rose back to her feet. “And Arya, being a Lady does not mean you can't know how to fight. Where I come from, it's even encouraged that a woman know how to do so.”

Arya smiled. “Yes, Your Grace, thank you,” she said sincerely, and the Queen nodded at her and took her seat again.

XxXxXx

“So there I was, running through the woods after what I believed was a very small man, only to find little Lyanna Stark trying to shove her shield into the branches of a tree.” King Rhaegar exclaimed, regaling them with the tale of the Knight of the Laughing Tree.

"What happened then?” Rickon asked.

“Well I caught her about the wrist so she wouldn't run off again and told her I wouldn't turn her in if she let me keep the shield,” he said.

“Is that why you crowned her then, to thank her?” Bran asked.

“Actually, crowning her was my idea,” Queen Elia spoke. “It is my firm belief that if she had been allowed to continue jousting, she would have won that tourney, and quite possibly would have crowned herself,” she explained.

"Wouldn't that have been a sight?” Ned asked the table.

The tension from the earlier discussion between Arya and Queen Elia had been replaced with warm frivolity. Everyone was laughing and they were all taking turns sharing stories. The Queen had talked about her time in Dorne and the pranks she and her brothers would play on each other. Lady Catelyn had spoken of the treacherous climb up to the Eyrie. Lord Stark told them of the time he and his siblings had all spoken in code for a sennight, and drove their Father mad. The had all been laughing and enjoying their light lunch when the laughter died down and it got very quiet.

“What of you, Lady Sansa, do you have an interesting story?” The King asked her.

Sansa smiled. “Indeed, Your Grace. I could tell you of the time Robb dared me to climb all the way to the top of tallest tree in the Godswood.”

“Oh,” the King said, but Sansa could tell that was not the story he wanted to hear by the slight frown on his face. “And did you, my Lady?”

Sansa smiled wider. “Yes, Your Grace, but I shall not bore you with the details, I think. I have a different story in mind.”

The King smiled back at her. “And what is that, my Lady?” He asked good-naturedly.

“The night I was born, Your Grace, if you would like to hear of it,” she told him.

“I would indeed, if it please you,” he said.

Sansa nodded and began to speak. She told the King about how she looked when she was first born, and how she should not have made it through the night, about how her Father had taken her into the Godswood and prayed for her to live, and the gods granted her strength and marked her as their own. The King listened with rapt attention, and did not break eye contact once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this ended up being so long because that convo with Arya and Elia was not planned! It just kind of happened, but I hope you guys liked it anyway. As always, please inform me of any major mistakes that hinder your reading, and I will fix them as soon as I can.
> 
> It's part of my personal head cannon that Rhaegar told Elia about Lyanna being the knight of the laughing tree, and it was her idea to crown Lyanna.
> 
> If you read my other stuff, you know that my phone broke, and I'm not getting it back till sometime in January. On the bright side, I'm getting used to typing on the iPad, and I got word for it. And I have all of December off to do nothing but fic! Hurray!!
> 
> If any of you are interested, I have a tumblr now where I will post all my fic stuff. The username is doom-cookie1.
> 
> P.s I've noticed that when I write things in italics, it doesn't post in italics. Can anyone tell me how I fix this?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, has it been a while since I updated this! I apologize for the wait, on the bright side, this chapter is over 4,000 words long! 
> 
> Fair warning, I am absolute shipper trash, as you will find out in this chapter.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Sansa was with Rickon and their wolves, watching Robb spar with the Greyjoy boy in the training yard. Usually at this time she was with her mother and Jeyne doing her stitches, or having lessons with Maester Luwin. But after the conversation Arya had had with Queen Elia she had asked Mother if she would teach her how to be a Lady, and Rickon had grown bored with their talk. So now Sansa was here, making sure her youngest brother didn't get into any trouble.

“Lady Sansa.” She heard someone call. She turned around and saw that it was the Queen, along with a young girl that looked to be around Sansa's age, a few years older perhaps. The girl was as tall as Sansa, with a head of chestnut colored curls, large brown eyes, and skin that looked to be kissed by the sun. She wore a beautiful green and gold dress that hugged her figure and had detachable sleeves.

“Your Grace, lovely to see you.” Sansa said as she curtsied.

“You as well, my dear. May I introduce you to Lady Margaery Tyrell, of Highgarden.” Queen Elia gestured to the girl and she stepped forward.

“Wonderful to meet you, Lady Margaery.” Sansa spoke as she nodded her head once. Margaery smiled brightly at her and nodded back.

“Wonderful to meet you as well, Lady Sansa.” She said. “Oh,” and suddenly she was surging forward to wrap her arms around Sansa's shoulders. “I'm sorry, I've heard so much about you, and I've wanted to meet you for so long.” She said, stepping back with a slight blush on her face. “Imagine my delight when I heard you were having a coming of age celebration, I just had to come and meet you. I hope we'll be great friends.” 

Sansa smiled politely. The girl seemed nice enough, if a bit overwhelming. “Well, meeting is the first step to friendship. You're welcome to watch the sparing matches with me,” she told her, then turned to the Queen. “If it please Your Grace, that is.”

“It would, indeed.” The Queen replied.

“Wonderful,” Margaery remarked. “Oh, and who is this handsome young lad, hm?” She asked, looking down at Rickon who had been hiding behind her skirts.

“Go on Rickon, introduce yourself.” Sansa told him, gently nudging him forward.

“I-I am Rickon Stark, my lady.” He stammered. Margaery smiled and crouched down in front of him.

“Well, Rickon Stark, I am Margaery Tyrell and I am very pleased to meet you.” She said and offered him her hand. Rickon looked up at Sansa for conformation and she nodded at him.

“Pl-pleased to meet you, Lady Margaery.” Rickon said as he bent to kiss Margaery’s hand, his face all red. Shaggydog chose that moment to jump up onto Lady Margaery’s shoulders and lick her face. The force of it sent her tumbling back with the big wolf on top of her.

"Oh, dear!" Sansa exclaimed at the same time Rickon said, “Shaggydog, no!”

Rickon ran over and grabbed his wolf by the scruff of his neck, pulling him off of Margaery. 

“Are you alright, Lady Margaery?” The Queen asked concerned.

“Yes, Your Grace, no harm done.” She replied. It was true, her hair was a bit out of place, but other than that she appeared to be fine.

“Here, let me help you up.” Said rushed forward and offering her hand.

“Thank you, Lady Sansa.” Margaery said.

“Apologies, my lady,” Rickon spoke as she stood. “Shaggydog didn't mean to knock you down, he just likes how you smell is all. He wanted to say hello.”

"That's quite alright, my little lord. There was no harm done.” Lady Margaery smiled down at Rickon good-naturedly.

“Still,” Rickon said. “Shaggydog, it is not nice to knock down ladies, go to the kennels.” He reprimanded. Shaggydog gave a little whimper, but slunk off to do as he was bid. Not before licking Lady Margaery’s hand in apology.

"How do you know he'll do as you say?” The Queen asked.

“The direwolves are good at taking orders, as long as they're from us, and Shaggydog knows when he's done something wrong.” Rickon explained.

"Rickon.” Sansa admonished gently.

“Oh, um, Your Grace.” He corrected himself.

“Oh, that's quite alright, truthfully I grow tired of the honorific, you need not use it, we are all but family after all. Still, how very fascinating about your wolves.” The Queen remarked. “I find that there many things that fascinate me about this place. Lady Sansa, I would like to see that place you spoke of earlier, if you wouldn't mind that is?” Queen Elia asked.

“Of course not, I would be glad to show you.” Sansa replied. “Tonight perhaps, after the feast?” 

“That sounds wonderful.” The Queen answered.

“But Sansa!” Rickon whined. “You're supposed to sing me to sleep tonight, I've been good like I promised.”

"That you have, little brother, I am so proud of you. Perhaps you could accompany us, if that would please you?” Sansa asked, addressing the Queen.

“Oh, of course. We will be needing an escort, after all. Who better to protect us from the snarks and grumpkins?” The Queen japed. 

"I shall defend us from them all!” Rickon claimed as he puffed out his chest.

"Oh, look," Lady Margaery exclaimed. “It looks like your brother has bested the Greyjoy lad, Lady Sansa. It looks like he's going to spar with my brother now.”

"The Knight of Flowers? This I must see.” Sansa remarked. Robb took his swordplay very seriously, but she had never seen him spar against such a famed knight before. Still, Sansa wasn't worried.

“Who do think will win, Lady Sansa, my brother or yours?” Margaery asked coyly.

“I have heard many things about Ser Loras’s skill, but it would be a crime to bet against my own brother.” Sansa said knowingly.

"Very true, I suppose we'll have to wait and see, then.” She replied.

Wait they did, for several long minutes. It seemed Robb had finally met his match in Ser Loras. Both boys were visibly panting with exhaustion and sweating fat drops, but still they continued, circling each other. Up until Ser Loras lunged forward quickly, but Sansa saw he had telegraphed his movement with his feet, and apparently Robb saw too, because he dodged deftly and knocked Ser Loras's sparing sword from his hand in one swift movement. Ser Loras put his hands up in surrender, and the boys shook hands, laughing. Rickon gave out a little cheer for his brother.

“It seems you were right, Lady Sansa. I haven't seen someone best my brother like that in ages.” Margaery remarked, more than a bit impressed.

“Robb has always taken his fighting very seriously. He is adept at the short sword, broadsword, and longsword, as well as archery, and is currently learning a Bravossi fighting style called water dancing along with Arya.”

“Truly? That's quite impressive. Why is he so interested in fighting? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“He's been learning to fight since the day I was born, he wants to be able to protect us all.”

“That is so very sweet.” Margaery said.

“Indeed,” the Queen agreed. “But it looks like it's time for the younger boys to spar.”

“Go on, Rickon.” Sansa told him.

He bowed to them all. “My ladies.” He said, then ran off into the courtyard.

“Well, Lady Margaery, Queen Elia, would you like to accompany me back to my mothers solar? We are teaching Arya how to be a proper lady.” She asked them.

“Really?” The Queen asked.

“Yes, I think what you said really got to her.” Sansa replied.

“In that case, I would love to accompany you. Lady Margaery?”

“Oh, yes. I would love to meet more of your family, Lady Sansa.”

They set off to Lady Catelyn’s solar, Sansa leading the way and spent the next few hours there, sewing, and chatting, and helping Arya better understand what it meant to be a lady.

"I never knew how much a Lady did before, it's quite a lot of work really.” Arya said exhausted.

"Oh, yes, Lady Arya.” Margaery said. “When my mother passed I stepped up as Lady of the house, I gained a whole new respect for her then. Truly, my Lord Father and brothers would be lost without me and my grandmother.”

“You are quite admirable, Lady Margaery.” Sansa remarked.

“Thank you, Lady Sansa, as are you.” 

“Well, I thank you Ladies and Your Grace for your company, but it is time to ready for the welcoming feast.” Lady Catelyn said.

“Quite right, Lady Catelyn, I look forward to speaking with you more there.”

With that, they all left to ready for the feast.

XxXxXx

Sansa walked into her room to find a parcel sitting at the foot of her bed with a note attached and went over to read it.

Dear Sansa,

I know how fond you are of pretty things, think of this as an early name day present.

Love,

Robb

Sansa smiled softly to herself. Robb was always doing things like this for her and their siblings, he just couldn't help himself. Whenever he saw something that reminded him of them, he had to get it. Bran and Rickon received toys, while Arya got new riding leathers and even a sword for her and Robb's water dancing lessons. Sansa received gifts like jewelry and other pretty trinkets she used to decorate her room. It made Sansa happy to know how much her family loved each other.

Sansa opened the gift and gasped in wonder. It was a dress the exact color of winter roses. When she lifted it out of the box it rippled and shined like water. The bodice was over laid with Myrish lace and the sleeves were made entirely of it and belled out around her hands, while the skirt flowed down to the floor, the gauzy material shifting with the slightest breeze.

Sansa hadn't planned on changing her dress, but now she had to wear this one, it was too beautiful not to. She laid it out on her bed and stripped down to her shift. She would need her mother to help her put the dress on, in the mean time she freshened up with the rose oil Father had given her, and even massaged some into her hair as she brushed it out. By the time she was done her mother had arrived.

"What's this?” She asked.

“A gift from Robb. Will you help me put it on?” 

“Of course, it's so lovely.”

Lady Catelyn held the dress open for her daughter and she slid it over her head, then proceeded to lace up the back. She felt tears come to her eyes. “Oh, Sansa, my darling girl. You really are a woman now, aren't you?”

Sansa swiftly turned around to embrace her mother. “Come now, Mother. Not for a few days more, so no tears yet, hmm?” She consoled as she rubbed and patted her mothers back.

Catelyn sighed. “No, of course not.” She said as she loosened the embrace. “Come, the family is waiting, let's go to the feast.”

XxXxXx 

Rhaegar was stunned as he saw Lady Stark and Lady Sansa enter the room. If he had not believed the girls story before, he most certainly did now. It was impossible for a young woman to be that beautiful and not be blessed by the gods. Her hair was completely free and lay in soft, shining waves about her face. The color of the dress she wore seemed to make her eyes glow even brighter, as if they were made of stars. The dress itself hugged her to her waist where it slid smoothly over her hips, outlining her shape. Rhaegar quickly cut that thought off, he should not be waxing poetic about his best friends daughter, no matter how beautiful and otherworldly she was.

Surely it was that “otherworldliness” that drew his attention. When she had told him her story at luncheon, he had found himself entranced by her, unable to look away. She had a voice that was soft and sweet, much like bells, and he found himself thinking about what she would sound like when she sang. He knew she was fond of music, perhaps she join him a song or two at the feast.

“I see you approve of my gift, dear sister.” Young Robb spoke up.

"Yes, it's lovely. Thank you, Robb.” She replied happily. “Did we keep you waiting long, Your Grace?” She addressed him.

“Of course not, my Lady.” He said as he bowed his head to her in acknowledgment. 

She nodded back and suddenly gasped. “Is that what I think it is!?” She exclaimed.

“Oh, you mean the harp. Yes, it is the one.” Rhaegar replied.

“Are you going to play it tonight, Your Grace?” She asked curiously.

Rhaegar smiled. “Hmm, perhaps.” He hedged. “If only you would accompany me, my Lady. I hear you are quite fond of music.” She gasped again at that, and practically beamed up at him.

She sunk into a curtsy. “I would be most honored, Your Grace.”

XxXxXx 

It was halfway through the feast before King Rhaegar gestured to Sansa to join him. “What is your favorite song, my Lady?” He asked.

“To tell it true, Your Grace, I don't really have a favorite. But I think Wolves in the Hills is one that everyone would enjoy.” Sansa explained to him.

"Why is that, my Lady?” He inquired.

“Some of the guests here tonight are from the mountain clans. They are a very private people, but perhaps if we perform this song, they will feel more at ease and will join in a bit more with the festivities.”

"That is very astute of you, Lady Sansa.” Queen Elia spoke up. “I am quite impressed.”

“Thank you, my Queen, but really, I just want everyone here to enjoy themselves.”

“Well then, Wolves in the Hills it is. Shall we?” Rhaegar asked as he offered his hand to Sansa.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Lord Stark motioned for the minstrel group to quiet, and as the hall fell silent King Rhaegar began to strum his high harp, and Sansa began to sing about the bravery, valor, and honor of the mountain clans, and their history with the Starks.

As they performed, those from the mountain clans and northerners and southerners alike began to dance together in large circle, constantly changing partners throughout. When it ended there was raucous applause, and Sansa and Rhaegar bowed together. The minstrels picked up a new tune, the Bear and the Maiden Fair, and the dancing continued.

As Sansa went to sit down again, Lady Margaery walked up to her with her brother Loras. “Oh Sansa, that was beautiful, look how much fun everyone is having, and to think, you got to sing with the King, I don't think that's ever happened before.”

“Really, it hasn't?” She asked. 

“Believe me, My Lady, if it had, we would know.” Loras spoke.

“Ah, Lady Sansa, please allow me to introduce my brother, Ser Loras Tyrell.” Margaery exclaimed.

“The Knight of Flowers, a pleasure to meet you Ser, I have heard much of your skill and bravery.” Sansa greeted him, ever courteous.

“The pleasure, my Lady, is mine.” He said as he kissed her hand. “Thank you for your words, but it seems I am not quite skillful enough. Your brother bested me at swords this morning, I was quite impressed.”

 

“Yes, I witnessed that, you lasted longer than most.” She told him.

“In that case, my confidence is restored.” Loras said firmly. “So much so, that I would ask my Lady for the honor of a dance.” He said as he held out his hand in offer.

"I would be delighted, Ser Loras.” She replied.

“And just what am I supposed to do?” Margaery asked jokingly.

Sansa liked Margaery, she seemed sweet and she was quite smart. Perhaps. . .

“Robb!” Sansa called. “Come over here, I want to introduce you to someone.”

“Yes, Sansa?” Robb asked as he came to stand beside her.

“Robb, this is Lady Margaery and Ser Loras Tyrell, of Highgarden. Lady Margaery, Ser Loras, this is my elder brother, Lord Robb Stark.” Sansa gestured in time with her words.

"Pleased to meet you, my Lady,” Robb bowed politely. “Though, I've already met your brother.” Robb said as he and Loras smirked at each other.

“I think perhaps a rematch is in order, Lord Robb.” Loras said to him.

“Nothing would suit me better, on the ‘morrow then?” Robb asked.

“Agreed.” Loras replied as they shook hands in affirmation.

“Robb,” Sansa spoke up, “Ser Loras has asked me to dance. You would you please keep Lady Margaery company?”

“Of course,” Robb agreed readily, ever the gentleman. “And would my Lady care for a dance, as well?” Robb held out is hand.

“I would love to, my Lord.” Margaery replied easily.

They all made their way to the dance floor as the minstrels began a new song. As Sansa and Ser Loras danced they talked.

“You know, my Lady, if I didn't know any better, I would say that you were trying to set up our respective siblings.”

Sansa blushed a bit and smiled wryly. “I have a very good intuition about people, Ser Loras. I like Lady Margaery, she's sweet, smart, strong, she has all the makings of a great Lady. I think they would like each other.”

“I met your brother this morning, my Lady, and I think you might be right. He seems an honorable sort, gentle and strong. My sister needs someone like that.”

“I'm glad that you agree, Ser.”

As the dance came to an end, Sansa spoke again. “I had heard talk that you are looking for a Lord to serve, is that true?”

“Yes, my Lady, it is. Why do you ask?”

“Because I have also heard talk that Lord Renly Baratheon is looking for a guard of sorts to accompany him on a tour of Essos, and your sister told me that you dream of seeing the world. He's here a with his nephew, perhaps you should speak to him.” Sansa suggested. She liked Ser Loras too, and she had met Lord Renly before, something told her that they would get along.

Ser Loras smiled at her. “Thank you, my Lady, I will.”

The night went on like that, Sansa dancing with many a young Lord and Knights. When she danced with Lord Renly he thanked her for her suggestion.

“Think nothing of it, my Lord.”

“Still, my Lady, I wonder if I might make a suggestion of my own?” He hedged.

“Suggest away, my Lord.” She told him.

“My nephew, Gendry, I wonder if he might meet with your Lord Father. Perhaps he could learn somethings about his own.” 

Sansa smiled softly. “Yes, I think that would be good, for the both of them. I will speak to my father on the matter.”

XxXxXx

“Rhaegar, come here for a moment.” Elia called.

Rhaegar broke off the conversation he was having and headed over. “Yes, my dear, is everything alright?” He asked worriedly.

“Oh, stop fretting, I told you I feel fine, that's not why I called you.” Elia admonished. “I've been watching the Stark girl, look. She paired her brother and Lady Margaery together, and they've been dancing all night. She said something to Ser Loras and he went to speak to Renly and they shook hands. She danced with the Greyjoy boy, and now he's been dancing with her friend Jeyne. She just finished dancing with Renly, now she's going to speak to Gendry.” Elia told him. “More than that, though, everyone she's danced with has walked away happier for it.”

“Do you think she's playing the game?” Rhaegar asked, though he doubted it, she was far too sweet of a girl.

“Not in the strictest sense, no. She doesn't seem aware she's playing the game, she's just. . .doing what she feels is right, I suppose. It's extraordinary to witness, she's so very good at what she's doing.”

"Mmm, perhaps you should dance with her then.” Rhaegar teased.

“No, I was thinking you should.” Elia smiled up at him. 

He frowned down at her. “Elia, I know you are not suggesting what I think you are suggesting.”

"Oh, come off it Rhaegar, just think of it for a moment. More than half the kingdom is already enamored with her, and after this celebration it will be more than that. She can obviously play the game well, she doesn't even no she's doing it, she's beautiful, intelligent, she'd make a fine Queen and mother, you've seen how she is with her younger siblings. And,” Elia dropped down to a whisper. “The ‘ice’ has to come from somewhere.”

“She is also barely of age, and my best friends daughter. What exactly am I supposed to say to Ned? ‘Oh, there's a prophecy that needs to be fulfilled or we're all going to die, do you mind if I marry Sansa to stop that from happening?’ No, Elia, someone else will be the one.” Despite his words, he couldn't stop the image of Sansa in Targaryen colors from forming in his mind.

“Fine, fine. It was only an idea, a passing thought. Still, she'll make some boy a fine wife one day. Perhaps the Baratheon boy she's speaking to now, Stark and Baratheon finally joined in marriage as it should have been.” Elia said.

Rhaegar tried to imagine Sansa in black and gold in the storm lands and found he could not.

"I know what you're doing, it's not going to work. Someone else, Elia, please.”

"Oh, alright, it's your loss, though.” 

Sansa walked up to them at that moment. “My King, my Queen,” she greeted. “May I ask how you're enjoying the festivities?”

“Quite well, Lady Sansa, thank you.” Rhaegar replied. “We were just speaking of how Elia would love to dance with you.” He said.

Sansa giggled at that. “Is that so, my Queen, would you like to dance with me?”

Elia took Rhaegars teasing in stride, far to used to it after all these years. “Well, you seem a far more competent dancing partner than anyone else here. Certainly better than my husband.”

“Hey!” Rhaegar protested.

“Unfortunately, I tire quickly at such fast paced dancing.” Elia went on, as if Rhaegar hadn't spoken at all.

“Hmm, perhaps there is something we could do about that.” Sansa replied. “Wait here.”

Sansa hurried over to the minstrel section and spoke with them for a moment before hurrying back. When she reached them again she held out her hand to the sitting Queen and bowed from her waist like a man.

“My Queen, if you would do me the honor of joining me in a dance.”

“The honor is mine, my Lady.” Elia laughed and took her hand as she stood.

The mistress quieted and Sansa spoke over the din of the Great Hall. “Would all the ladies present please join the Queen and I in the middle of the dance floor?”

The sound of murmuring grew louder in the room as all the men left the floor, and all the ladies converged on it. Arya and Lady Catelyn walked up beside Sansa and the Queen as they all made their way to the center.

"Sansa, what are you doing?” Arya asked her.

“You'll see.” She replied. “I'm going to need yours and mothers help.”

As they reached the center, Sansa spoke again. “If all the ladies would please get in a circle and join hands. Mother, Arya if you would please place yourselves evenly in the circle.”

“I see what you're doing.” Arya said.

“Oh, I remember this dance, your Aunt Lyanna taught it to me the day I married your father.” Lady Catelyn added.

They both walked off to their respective places, when the circle was complete the minstrels began to play a slow, but happy tune. As the music went on Sansa, Arya, and Lady Catelyn helped guide the ladies through the dance. They walked forward, backward, spun, skipped, and clapped in time with the music. When it was over they all bowed to each other, and Lord Stark spoke to the crowd.

“My lords and ladies, thank you for this fine evening, but the sun has set, our bellies are full, and the Wolfswood is heavy with game. To the hunt!” He yelled, and the crowd of men echoed back. 

“To the hunt!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and Gentleman, we have broken 10,000 words. I would like to take this moment to thank everyone who has enjoyed this fic so far, I hope you will continue to do so.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Next chapter, the antagonist enters the story!
> 
> As always, please inform me of any mistakes that hinder your reading. This chapter is really long and there is bound to be a few.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crawls out of my cave* i am not dead!! Huzzah!!!
> 
> As I said before, this is where it gets strange. But, I figure if GRRM can have ice zombies, then I can have kelpies. That being said,
> 
> Kelpies: creatures from Scottish folklore that can take human and horse form. They are known for stealing children and pretty girls. Anything else you need to know will be in the text.
> 
> Also, Ahearn is actually Celtic for "Lord of Horses" subtle I am not. Lol!!

 

Sansa was walking through the Godswood with Queen Elia and Rickon. They had just sent all the men off hunting, they would not return for a few days. The only ones left now were the very young, the very old, and of course, Sansa's brothers, Father, and the King.

 

“They were all quite lively, weren't they?” Elia laughed.

 

“Yes, if anything can bring men together it's hunting and drinking.” Sansa agreed.

 

“You know a lot about that, don't you? Bringing people together.” Elia asked.

 

“I suppose. I like to watch people.” Sansa explained. “They really aren't that different, no matter where they're from. They all want the same thing.”

 

“And what is that?” The Queen implored.

 

Sansa looked over at the Queen. “To be happy. They might have different ways of achieving it, and it might hold different meaning for everyone, but it's what everyone wants.” She answered as they arrived at the hot pool where Sansa was given life.

 

“How very right you are, my Lady.” A voice called from out in the darkness. It was a man, dripping wet, and standing knee deep in the water. Sansa gasped at the sight of him. He was tall with pale skin and dark hair that clung to his face and neck. His clothes clung to him as well, little that he wore, a pair of breeches and a shirt that would have puffed if not for being soaked. But his eyes were the most startling. A green so bright they seemed to glow, to pierce her very soul in the darkness. Sansa felt a shudder go through her at the sight of them. This man was dangerous.

 

“I have waited years for this moment. Almost six and ten, to be exact.” The man said. “Look how much you’ve grown, so beautiful. Befitting the one who is to be my wife.”

 

“I think not, just who are you sir?” Sansa demanded.

 

“Your kind have many names for me, but you may call me Ahearn.” He said, smirking. Sansa paled at the name.

 

“You’re the Lord of horses.” Rickon whispered, awestruck. 

 

“Kelpie.” Sansa gasped.

 

“Correct, little one, and I’m here for your sweet sisters hand.” Ahearn said to Rickon.

 

Rickon was mesmerized. It was just like in the stories! The King of Kelpies was here to make Sansa his bride! But, Rickon didn’t recall Father talking about Sansa being wed, that must mean…

 

“You’re here to compete in the tourney, then? Whoever wins will get Sansa’s hand.” Rickon said. Ahearn smiled at his words, his teeth, though normal enough looking, seemed as sharp as any razor.

 

“Rickon!” Sansa exclaimed, trying to shush him.

 

“What? That’s what Father said.”

 

The Queen, silent until then, spoke. “If you wish for Lady Sansa’s hand you will have to win it.”

 

“And why would I do that when I could just steal her now?” Ahearn asked in a mocking tone.

 

“Because, if you simply take her, then her love will come after you, to destroy you and all you hold dear.”

 

“Your Grace?” Sansa whispered questioningly.

 

“Hush, child.”

 

“Ha! If a man could ever be so foolish.” Ahearn laughed.

 

“Not foolish, fearsome. So fearsome the small folk dare not speak his name, and if you abscond with Lady Sansa he will come at you with all the might of the seven kingdoms.” Elia told him. “But, if you challenge him, he will have no choice but to compete against you in the tourney.”

 

“Very well, I will meet this great love you speak of, and decide if he is worthy of a challenge.” Ahearn stated. “Bring him here next eve, I will be waiting.” And before their eyes, he turned to water and splashed back into the pool.

 

XxXxXx

 

Sansa, Elia, and Rickon had just finished explaining the incident to everyone, and it was then that Sansa spoke again.

 

“Stop that, Robb.” Sansa told him.

 

“Stop what?” he sighed, moodily. 

 

“Blaming yourself, I can see it on your face.”

 

“I should have been there!” He yelled.

 

“To do what? He would have come for me anyway, he said he’d been waiting for years!” Sansa cried. “I just cant believe this is happening. Kelpie are supposed to be myths.” She said, defeated.

 

“Rickon, why did you tell Ahearn that whoever won would get Sansa’s hand?” Ned asked the boy.

 

“Well. That’s what you said, isn’t it?” He replied meekly.

 

“My hand in the first dance, Rickon, not in marriage.” Sansa said softly.

 

“Oh, so is this my fault then?” He cried, tears falling down his face at the thought of putting his sister in danger.

 

“No, Rickon, if anything, your mistake has bought us more time. Even if it is only a day.” Ned told him.

 

“Regardless, child, you must honor the bargain you made with the Kelpie King, ‘less he come to steal you again.” Old Nan spoke up.

 

“But how?” Catelyn asked, teary eyed. “All the men have gone off hunting, they wont be back for days.”

 

“There is one person.” The Queen said slowly.

 

“Elia.” The King said warningly.

 

“There is Rhaegar.” She said simply, as if she did not hear him.

 

“Elia!” He exclaimed.

 

“Well, who else is there? The other men wont be back for days, and even if they were here, it’s not as if they could offer a real challenge to this ‘Lord of Horses.’ It can only be you, Rhaegar, you know it’s true.”

 

“Have you forgotten that I am already wed?” He asked sarcastically.

 

Elia shrugged. “You’re a Targaryen, the rules are different for you.”

 

“Be that as it may. . .” Rhaegar trailed off as he looked to Ned. The look on his face was one he had seen before, years ago when they fought together. He knew what it meant, and he sighed.

 

“Very well, if Lady Sansa accepts.” He stipulated.

 

For her part, Sansa could not speak, too stunned by the conversation that had just taken place. She looked around at the pleading faces of her family.

 

She looked the King in the eyes and nodded.

 

XxXxXx

 

It was later in the evening, and Sansa had just finished readying herself for bed when a knock sounded at the door. She let out a sigh and went to go answer it.

 

“Robb, I really don’t wish to speak,” she began, but abruptly cut herself off when she saw it was not her brother, but the Queen.

 

“I’m sorry, should I come back later?” Elia asked her.

 

“N-No, please, come in.” Sansa stuttered out, instantly nervous. There was really only one reason the Queen would be here after all. It might have been her idea that King Rhaegar be her champion, but he was still Elia’s husband. Sansa couldn’t imagine the Queen would be very pleased at the possibility of Sansa marrying him.

 

“Most women would be happy at the prospect of marrying a King, especially one as handsome and kind as Rhaegar,” Elia began as she walked into the room. “But earlier tonight, you looked as if it was a death sentence.” She said in a way that prompted an answer, though she did not ask a question, as she sat on the trunk at the end of Sansa’s bed.

 

“It is not that I am ungrateful to His Grace for being willing to help me.” Sansa started slowly. “I am only saddened that it seems, no matter what happens, I will be marrying a man that cannot love me the way I would want a husband to love me.” She did not say ‘that I could never love,’ for Sansa could not imagine herself not loving someone as kind and brave as the King seemed to be.

 

“Is that what you’re afraid of? That Rhaegar will not love you?” The Queen asked her.

 

“How can he, when he already has you?” Sansa asked her. 

 

“Come here girl, and sit beside me.” Sansa did so cautiously, this was not how she had been expecting this conversation to go when she opened the door.

 

“Now I want you to listen closely, because this is very important. Yes, Rhaegar is my husband, and we have been married for a very long time, and we have two beautiful children together that we both love very much. I also love Rhaegar very much, and he loves me, but all these things do not mean that we are _in love_ with each other. We tried very hard to be, when we were first promised. We learned a lot about one another during that time, and we became very close friends. As his friend, I want him to be happy. I think, perhaps, if you could give it a chance, he could be happy with you. You don’t know him like I do, not yet, but you have much in common. I think you would be happy with him, too.”

 

“You truly wouldn’t mind if I was to wed Rhaegar, then?” Sansa asked.

 

“Of course not, my dear.” Elia replied sincerely.

 

“Thank you, my Queen. I suppose I will think on it.” Sansa told her.

 

“That is all I ask of you.” 

 

XxXxXx

 

Sansa waited a few moments after the Queen left to take her own leave. She was sure Rickon would have understood if she decided not to come sing him to sleep tonight, but she had made a promise and she was going to keep it. After all, it was her that convinced him to be cordial to everyone to begin with.

 

“Rickon, are you awake?” She called out as she opened the door to the room he shared with Bran. Bran was old enough to have his own room by now, but Sansa knew that Bran didn’t like to be alone at night, so stayed under the guise of comforting Rickon when he had nightmares. 

 

“I’m afraid our brother is fast asleep, Sansa.” Bran replied to her. He was in bed himself, reading a large tome by candle light.

 

“Shame, I was going to sing to him.”

 

“You’ve both had a long day, he understands that.”

 

“Still.” Sansa said. “In any case, good night Bran.”

 

“Wait!” he called after her.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Sansa, I know that if neither of them win, you’ll have to marry no one. But, I think it might be best if the King won and married you.”

 

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Bran?” Sansa teased him. First Queen Elia, now her brother. Next it will be Robb telling her to marry the King.

 

“Of course not, sister. It’s just, I’ve been doing some reading, and kelpies like to play dirty. Even if they both lose, Ahearn may still try and take you. It might be best if the King wins, then he can take you south, where you’ll be safe.” 

 

Sansa knew Bran was right, but she wasn’t quite ready to admit that it might be best if she married the King. “Yes, and then I can bring you with me and you can learn to become a great knight! That’s what this is really about, isn’t it?”

 

Bran flushed. “Well, I suppose the thought did cross my mind. But, really Sansa, I just want you safe.”

 

 

Sansa sighed. “I know. We will deal with things as they come, yes? For now, get some sleep, little night wolf.” She said as she kissed his forehead.

 

“You too, Sansa.”

 

XxXxXx

 

“What in the Seven Hells are you thinking, Elia?” Rhaegar asked when she walked back into the room.

 

She sighed. “Well, I was thinking of getting ready for bed, but something tells me I have to wait for that.”

 

“You made a deal with a mythical being-“

 

“Not really 'mythical' any more.”

 

“That is not the point, Elia. You made a deal with this Ahearn fellow, and now I might end up marrying my best friends daughter, a girl who is young enough to be my own daughter. And did you see her face when she agreed to this, she’s terrified at the prospect of marrying me.” Rhaegar ranted.

 

“One, Ned adores you. He knows you would never do anything to hurt his daughter, and it was that look he gave you that got you to agree in the first place. Two, there are those younger than she that are mothers themselves. Besides, she’s very mature for her age, wise far beyond her years, even if there is an innocence to it. And you, Rhaegar, are not nearly the old man you seem to think yourself. Three, of course she’s scared. This is a girl that grew up in a family with parents that have a love more true than Naerys and Aemon the Dragon Knight. She thought to have a love like that herself one day, and now her options are pray no one wins, marry the horse king that only wants her for breeding purposes, or marry you and become the second Queen of the bloody Seven Kingdoms at the age of six and ten.”

 

“You seem to have thought a lot about this.” Rhaegar said, sitting in a chair by the fire place.

 

“I know you too well, dear. I can think of all your arguments before you make them. Besides, you said you wanted someone I approved of, I approve of Sansa.”

 

Rhaegar sighed. “So, now what?”

 

“Court the girl.” Elia said plainly.

 

“Court her?” Rhaegar repeated.

 

“Yes, make her see that a life with you would not be so bad. Get to know her, and let her get to know you. As I remember it, you can be quite the charmer.”

 

“Alright, I will try.”

 

“For the sake of the realm darling, you really have no choice.”

 

XxXxXx

 

Sansa was sitting with her mother and Arya in Lady Catelyn's solar.

 

“What if, when we go, I just stab him with Needle?” Arya asked. “My sword, I mean, not this little thing.” She added, gesturing with the sewing needle.

 

“No, that would be Kingslaying, it could incite a war with the Kelpie.” Lady Catelyn explained. “We don’t know enough about them to risk that. Also, don’t wave that about, you'll poke your eye out.” 

 

“Well, what else are we supposed to do? Just let that bastard take Sansa?” Arya exclaimed, setting the needle aside. Not that she would have hurt herself anyway, but if it calmed her mother, so be it.

 

“What we do,” Sansa interjected, “is pray that the King wins against Ahearn, and that we never hear from the Kelpie again.”

 

“Why would we not pray for neither of them to win?” Arya asked.

 

“I spoke with Bran last night, the Kelpie don’t like to play fair. Lawfully speaking, if Ahearn accepts King Rhaegar as worthy of challenge, and then neither of them win, then that should be the end of it. But, Kelpie aren’t known for playing by the rules, and may still try and take me after the tourney is over.”

 

“Could he try and take you before the competition even starts?”

 

“It’s a possibility, I must be vigilant.” Arya just hummed at that, pouting. Sansa knew her sister wished she could do more, but unfortunately, there was not much any of them could do. 

 

A maid came into the room at that moment. “Presenting his royal highness, King Rhaegar.” 

 

The man walked into the room, and all three ladies went to stand and curtsy, but he waved them down. “There is no need for that.”

 

“King Rhaegar, to what do we owe the honor of your visit this morn?” Lady Catelyn inquired.

 

“I was hoping that the Lady Sansa would accompany me on a stroll through the Glass Gardens, if it please her.” He began. “I have never gotten to see them, and I had heard you were quite knowledgeable on them, my Lady.” The King said as he turned his attention on her.

 

“You have heard correctly, Your Grace, I would be honored to accompany you.” Sansa answered, ever gracious. On the inside she was terrified. Here was man, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, whom she had grown up hearing stories and songs of, and he had just asked her to walk with him to the gardens. In any other circumstance, Sansa thought it would be much like a song, but she would not fool herself. The King did not agree to be her champion because of some great love for her, if anything it was out of respect for her father. Yet still, the Queens words came back to her, _‘I think you would be happy with him.’_ Perhaps she could give this a chance, at the very least she should learn to be comfortable around him.

 

“The honor is mine, my Lady.”

 

“Well, Arya, it is about time for your water dancing lessons, and I have duties to attend to. It seems we shall all take our leave.” Lady Catelyn spoke, breaking the strange tension in the room.

 

XxXxXx

 

The walk to the Garden had been silent, the only noise being the soft sound of the Ser Jaime and Ser Barristons armor.  It was only when they had finally arrived at the door that anyone spoke.

 

“I must admit, I expected it to be much smaller.” Rhaegar said. “How many flowers do you grow in here?”

 

“Quite a lot, Your Grace, but we don’t only grow flowers. Our fruits and vegetables are grown here, as well.” 

 

“I always thought the North imported such things from the South.” Ser Jaime spoke up.

 

“During the summer months, yes, but in the Winter, when travel is harder, it makes more sense to grow them ourselves.” Jaime hummed in undertanding.

 

“Well, I would quite like to see the inside, if my Lady would escort me.” Rhaegar smiled and offered his arm.

 

Sansa blushed slightly. “Of course, Your Grace, right this way.” She said as she took his arm and led him inside. The Kingsguard waited without. As soon a they were far enough away from the door, Rhaegar spoke again.

 

“Now that we are truly alone, Lady Sansa, I wish to set your mind at ease.” He said.

 

“Your Grace?” Sansa questioned, more nervous now than she had been before. 

 

“I understand that you must be scared, but I want you to know that you have no reason to be. When this is all over, I assure you that you will live a very comfortable and happy life in Kingslanding.” Rhaegar told her.

 

Sansa thought to mention how he had not actually won yet, and therefore could not say what would happen when all was said and done, but did not wish to risk upsetting him. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said instead. “Will you tell me about Kingslanding?” 

 

As they circled the Garden together, King Rhaegar spoke of many things. He spoke of the Red Keep and it’s secret passageways he had explored as a child, he spoke of the Sept of Baelor with it’s beautiful colored glass windows and Hall of Lamps, but mostly he talked about his people, and how, when he was only a prince, he would go out to speak and sing with them.

 

“I remember the first time my father took me out to the city, I was not but a boy, no older than Rickon, and my father watched over me as I sang and danced with the other children.” Rhaegar said fondly. “You seem surprised, Lady Sansa.” He added softly.

 

“My apologies, Your Grace, I just. . .” She trailed off, unsure what to say.

 

“Have a hard time imagining ‘The Mad King’ as anything other than that?” He asked her.

 

“I am sorry, I-“

 

“No, it’s alright. You’re not wrong, he was mad, and that is all history will ever remember of him. But I can remember a time before that, a time when there was love in my Father’s eyes when he looked upon his people, before the madness took him and tore his mind and this Kingdom apart.” Rhaegar said, a deep sadness in his eyes.

 

“It must have been so hard for you, to see that happen to him.” 

 

“Aye. Enough of the dead, though, tell me about you, now.” Rhaegar smiled genuinely. 

 

Sansa spoke of her own family, how Robb had been there for her since the day she was born, how Arya and she used to argue before they found a balance with each other, how Bran shared her love of stories, and Rickon her love of songs.

 

“And yet, as I recall, you do not have a favorite, Lady Sansa. Why is that?” Rhaegar inquired.

 

Sansa smiled thoughtfully. “Before my parents told me the truth of birth, love songs were my favorite, and I used to dream about having a love of my own like that. But, after I learned that all the songs and stories about myself were untrue, I realized that the others must be untrue as well. So, you see, Your Grace, I still very much enjoy songs, but I’m afraid I do not believe in them.”

 

Rhaegar stopped them, a few paces from the door. “Lady Sansa, I believe you are quite mistaken in this view.” He said as he looked down into her eyes.

 

“How so, Your Grace?”

 

“The songs and stories we know may have the details wrong, but they all get the most important thing right.”

 

“What is that?” Sansa asked softly, overwhelmed by the intensity in his eyes as he stared into her.

 

“The _love_ that existed. The stories of you may all differ, but the one thing they all have in common is the great love your father has for you, and that is what is most important, the emotions behind the songs we sing, the love that existed, that _does_ exist.” He said passionately, willing her to understand. It wasn’t the details that mattered in songs, so much as the feelings, that was what his mother had taught him a child.

 

Sansa smiled widely up at him. “I didn’t think of it like that before, thank you, Your Grace.”

 

“Thank you, my Lady. It is not often I get to speak about songs, I relish every chance I get.” He said as they once again continued walking.

 

“Well, you may speak to me of songs any time you like, Your Grace.” Sansa said as they exited the door.

 

“Careful, Lady Sansa, he’ll take you up on that, and then you’ll never hear the end of it.” Ser  Barriston teased, good naturedly. 

 

“That was one time, Ser Barriston, and as I recall, you had quite a lot to add to the conversation yourself!” Rhaegar teased back at the knight.

 

Sansa could not help it and laughed aloud. Perhaps everything would be alright if King Rhaegar won, he seemed much more human now, much more real.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there you go. This one was a bit shorter than the last, but it was mostly dialogue. Hope you all liked it, and as always, please inform me of any mistakes and I will do my best to fix them!!
> 
> Let me know what you guys thought, your words are my motivation!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Not very long, but was it good? Please tell me what you think. I know I use a lot of commas, hope that doesn't bother anyone too much.
> 
> Sansa does not actually mean sacred in the old tongue, but it does mean that in the latin version of the name Sancia, the name of the woman grrm drew inspiration from for Sansa's character, Sancia of Naples. He just used the sanskrit spelling of the name, which also means praise and charm ( i assume so it sounded more northern ) which I also found interesting as it applies to Sansa's character.


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